AntiHero,
I was just turned on to your RR last week, and have to admit I'm a little sad to be reading it as history instead of history in the making. I'm sorry to have missed you in Savannah, pizza at Vinnie Van Go-Go's is on me next time you pass through. As an absolute introvert (the kind who would make Jung jump up and say "That! That's what I'm talking about!"), I have thoroughly enjoyed your "one man, one motorcycle, and what-may-come" mission and the introspection and insights it wrought. My friends and I meet twice a year at Deals Gap for a week of all day riding, followed by all night lie-telling and philosophizing around the campfire- so I also appreciate the discussion, debate, and camaraderie you've inspired here. Thanks for taking us along for the ride.

LA: Though I never quite felt at home there, I felt at home when I returned. And though I had a short time there--3 months in 2010, 9 in 2011-12, I seem to have no shortage of lucid memories. There's some sort of special significance Los Angeles has that I don't understand yet, like some clue in a David Lynch or Tarantino movie that will only reveal its purpose to me at some later date.

I had no idea what I was going to do. I thought traveling around the country would give me clarity. I thought I'd have found at least 3 or 4 cities where I'd want to live. I thought I'd be sick and tired of Kwai Chang Caining it around the US. But I had no clarity and I didn't want to stop. But none-the-less, I had to. I had projects and ideas and financial things to attend to. I needed to stay in one place for at least a few weeks so I could get my affairs in order, so to speak. My ex offered to let me stay with her for a few days, but the lease was up on our old place, so that wasn't a long-term solution.

The facts were:

I had no home

I didn't want one

I couldn't stop

I couldn't keep going (winter)

There was a rather bulletproof FJ sitting there in the driveway, though. And just like that plan for ADV v1.2 began.

I took the rest of my belongings and put 'em into storage and snapped one last pic of the odometer. And like I had done six months earlier, I hit the ignite button and roared off.

My last ride was sobering. And sad. And depressing. Getting onto the freeway I gave her wide open throttle through the gears, one last rush, one last taste of freedom for both of us. She thought that perhaps we were going to San Diego again, or Mexico, or even downtown. Or maybe to a new cool photo shoot location.

I indulged her vanity, snapped a bunch of shots, then carefully worked my hand down her left side to disconnect power while HAL's "Daisy" echoed slower and slower in my mind. It was the hardest thing I'd done the entire trip. I knew we'd be eventually be reunited, but as I backed her in with the rest of my things I couldn't help feel that I was burying my playmate and mistress and no small part of myself.

I'm only on page 12 of this thread but wanted to let you know I love your RR. I'm new to ADV but own 3 bikes and absolutely love riding. I'm gonna read this all the way through and have my 2 boys read it too at their own pace. Your story isn't just a fun read but a lesson on living your life even through the hard parts. Hope to meet you on the road someday

Not to bring this up again, but I, for one, have enjoyed the introspective aspects of this RR. If their implied conclusions bother the reader, it indicates a problem with the reader, not the author--regardless of whether they are correct or not.

Early on in this R/R I received one of the most difficult to respond to messages that I received the entire trip. It was from a guy who followed his dream to become a Navy SEAL. He spent years preparing for BUD/S, including traveling to Jordan to learn Arabic to increase his chance of admittance into the program. He was accepted, made it through four weeks, but lost focus one night and DOR&#8217;d (voluntarily dropped out on request).

(It's a brutal program. Google "Hell Week" or get on youtube and check out the torture required day-in-day-out.)

On one particular Friday, exhausted, fatigued, mentally vapid, he withdrew in the middle of it all. As the pain subsided, clarity returned and immediately he regretted his 'decision': &#8220;Years of hard work, gone in a moment of weakness, and its only my fault. I followed my dream, I gave it everything, I took the chance and failed hard. I have learned more about myself in those weeks than ever before. I know nothing in my life will be as physically demanding as buds. Sadly, learning who you are is learning who you are not. What do you do when you can&#8217;t follow your dream anymore?&#8221; (His words.)

Keep in mind he sent me a this message very early on&#8212;as a response to the brain tumor post if I recall. I&#8217;d been robbed of two of the greatest dreams in my life, so I think he saw me as someone who might have some answers about 'what next'? At the time all I had was hope, but no definite answer.

&#8220;Seems weak and discredits the hard work if the goal is easy to get over, seems lame to not get over it.&#8221;

I admit that last part as being poignant. Exactly so. It put a fine point onto the pain I myself was experiencing, a pain that I still feel daily. I knew nothing I could say would make anything better (for him or me) and could only give him the advice I was trusting to work out for myself: focus your passion and energy on the next goal.

Not all dreams come true. Even for someone like him who had the intelligence, focus, resolve and dedication to prepare for years. If a guy who survived some of the most brutal physical tests in the history of mankind failed, what chances does a normal person have to achieve anything? I don&#8217;t think I have an answer to that question other than, 'you&#8217;ll regret not trying far more than never attempting it in the first place'; failing is less of a regret than not trying.

While down in LA I was fortunate enough to meet up with him. I feel rude not to use his name, but due to his position as a ____ ____ ____ (yes, just like in Russian novels), pronouns will have to suffice. He&#8217;s still beaten up about SEALs, and probably always will be (I don't blame him). But survival requires adaptation. It was redeeming--five months later--to hear that his energy and passion have been transferred into a new position within the military that has the same objective: get the bad guys, protect the good guys and the people who don't think the bad guys are out to get them. It's the kind of behind the scenes, 'sacrifice your own life for the benefit of others who don't know you exist' work that deserves admiration rarely discussed and (fortunately) rarely sensationalized.

After a night of random exploring, Mexican food, Tequila shots and Rum/Beer at the S/S, he shook my foot at 5am. It was Cars and Coffee time, Irvine. 5:30 am to 7:30 am. Like all of my other adventures on the this report, discovering great things that I never knew existed was the outcome&#8230;.

Not all dreams come true. Even for someone like him who had the intelligence, focus, resolve and dedication to prepare for years. If a guy who survived some of the most brutal physical tests in the history of mankind failed, what chances does a normal person have to achieve anything? I dont think I have an answer to that question other than, 'youll regret not trying far more than never attempting it in the first place'; failing is less of a regret than not trying.

Far better is it to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure... than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much, because they live in a gray twilight that knows not victory nor defeat.
Theodore Roosevelt

It'sNotTheBike translates to: It's not the bike, it's the rider. But that last post seems to suggest that it's all about the bike.

"Argue for your limitations, and sure enough, they're yours"

If anyone felt defensive or argumentative about my last major post, the chance that you're a victim of your own excuses is almost certain. Success doesn't only come to those who have superior genetics and achievements don't just come to those who had a perfect upbringing in an ideal environment. Overcoming adversity, gents....that's what life is all about.

Click to expand...

I love you, man. I'm just catching up with this report, but if you're ever down in the Houston TX area, give me a shout. Brews are on me, and there's a guest bed open to you.

JayReif--I'll hit you up next time I'm in Houston. Or hit me up when you're in CA. Badjuju--you and the rest of us!

As for the 917--the dude's dad own's 2 originals, he owns a replica, but it has the real engine in it....and holmes showed up on slicks. 600hp and 1200lbs I think he said? Lots of videos of the replica (Bailey Cars) on youtube. Sick stuff. I'll have to fish out the video of his car pulling up.